Poems begining by A
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After Love
© Sara Teasdale
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
A Cry
© Sara Teasdale
Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be
Only a voice.
Apostasy
© Charlotte Bronte
THIS last denial of my faith,
Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard;
And, though upon my bed of death,
I call not back a word.
A Mermaid Questions God
© Kelli Russell Agodon
As a girl, she hated the grain of anything
on her fins. Now she is part fire ant, part centipede.
Where dunes stretch into pathways, arteries appear.
Her blood pressure is temperature plus wind speed.
A Girl Sang a Song
© Alexander Blok
A girl sang a song in the temple's chorus,
About men, tired in alien lands,
About the ships that left native shores,
And all who forgot their joy to the end.
April Rise
© Laurie Lee
If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now in this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.
Apples
© Laurie Lee
Behold the apples rounded worlds:
juice-green of July rain,
the black polestar of flowers, the rind
mapped with its crimson stain.
A Country Life
© Randall Jarrell
A bird that I don't know,
Hunched on his light-pole like a scarecrow,
Looks sideways out into the wheat
The wind waves under the waves of heat.
A Sick Child
© Randall Jarrell
The postman comes when I am still in bed.
"Postman, what do you have for me today?"
I say to him. (But really I'm in bed.)
Then he says - what shall I have him say?
Against Writing about Children
© Erin Belieu
When I think of the many people
who privately despise children,
I can't say I'm completely shocked,
A Look Into The Gulf
© Edwin Markham
I LOOKED one night, and there the Semiramis,
With all her mourning doves about her head,
Sat rocking on an ancient road of Hell,
Withered and eyeless, chanting to the moon
Arcady Unheeding
© Siegfried Sassoon
Shepherds go whistling on their way
In the spring season of the year;
One watches weather-signs of day;
One of his maid most dear
At Carnoy
© Siegfried Sassoon
Down in the hollow theres the whole Brigade
Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow
I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played,
And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low.
A Subaltern
© Siegfried Sassoon
But as he stamped and shivered in the rain,
My stale philosophies had served him well;
Dreaming about his girl had sent his brain
Blanker than evershed no place in Hell....
Good God! he laughed, and slowly filled his pipe,
Wondering why he always talked such tripe.
Ancient History
© Siegfried Sassoon
Grimly he thought of Abel, soft and fair
A lover with disaster in his face,
And scarlet blossom twisted in bright hair.
Afraid to fight; was murder more disgrace?
God always hated Cain He bowed his head
The gaunt wild man whose lovely sons were dead.
A Wanderer
© Siegfried Sassoon
Sometimes, returning down his breezy miles,
A snatch of wayward April he will bring,
Piping the daffodilly that beguiles
Foolhardy lovers in the surge of spring.
And then once more by lanes and field-path stiles
Up the green world he wanders like a king.
At Daybreak
© Siegfried Sassoon
I listen for him through the rain,
And in the dusk of starless hours
I know that he will come again;
Loth was he ever to forsake me:
He comes with glimmering of flowers
And stir of music to awake me.
Ancestors
© Siegfried Sassoon
Behold these jewelled, merchant Ancestors,
Foregathered in some chancellery of death;
Calm, provident, discreet, they stroke their beards
And move their faces slowly in the gloom,
Autumn
© Siegfried Sassoon
October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves
The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood
In whose lament I hear a voice that grieves
For battles fruitless harvest, and the feud
